When I was a kid, my favorite thing to do was read my horoscope. I would open up my daily newspaper’s features section while eating breakfast and scan the page until I reached “Libra.” While munching on my cereal and orange juice, I’d mull over the mysterious couple of sentences, considering how they might apply to my elementary school life and how the stars might impact where I was going.
As a child, I loved the idea that there was a mystical or magical structure to the universes. Even at a young age, I understood that we don’t always know what’s around the corner — so the idea of a uniting energy that ushers us in the right direction was a comfort.
I am what I call a “Jew by choice,” a term a teacher of mine uses to refer to those who convert to Judaism. When I first began to explore the religion and culture of Judaism as a young adult, my first introductions were through the holidays: taking part in Friday night Shabbat dinners and Passover Seders at friends’ houses and observing the lighting of Hanukkah candles on the darkest days of the year.
One of my favorite aspects of Judaism is that choice. Every Jewish person I meet celebrates and honors the culture a tad differently. For me, ritual moments were my gateway to understanding and integrating the traditions into my life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my childhood habit of tracking my horoscope was a ritual, a way to center myself and consider my intentions as I started my day. One of my teachers noted that rituals are actions that make the mundane sacred. Friday evenings could just be another night of the week, and lighting candles simply an action to create light and warmth. But combined with my intention to ritualize it — saying prayers over the Shabbat candles, eating challah, and sipping wine — Shabbat can become something sacred and unique.
As I’ve woven Judaism into my life, I’ve found rituals that make my routines feel sacred. Rosh Chodesh, the Jewish new moon holiday, in particular gives me an opportunity to slow down each month and be intentional. Similar to the zodiac, each month in the Jewish calendar has its own themes that guide our direction, inspiration, and ideas. The same part of my brain that was tickled by those childhood horoscopes lights up when I learn about the ebbs and flows of the year — which months are time for stillness and which are for action, which are for adventure and which for turning inward. Ritualizing Rosh Chodesh is a reminder to not simply let the coming month pass by me, but to use a ritual practice to set intentions for what I hope to embody and achieve in the month ahead.
In the month of Tishrei, Rosh Chodesh is celebrated in tandem with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. Notice that double “Rosh”? It means “head,” as in “beginning,” and ushers in double the fresh starts. Tishrei usually falls in September and October, aligning with the Libra zodiac season — and my birthday. It’s the time of year when the leaves are beginning to fall, it’s getting darker earlier in the evening, and there’s a crisp shift in temperature. As the energy turns down, it gives me an opportunity to tune into myself.
Like a lot of people, it’s easy for me to get caught up in the busyness of this month that’s chock full of celebrations, so I’ve found even more meaning in slowing down and establishing space for reflection by myself as the month begins. One of the key parts of forming a ritual isn’t necessarily doing anything new, but ritualizing an existing experience. For Tishrei, I spend the days surrounding Rosh Chodesh journaling about what I want the next year of my life to look like, crafting goals and mulling over the feelings I aim to embody.
When I create a ritual, I aim to elevate the everyday — in this case, my journaling practice — and spur it into action by creating a physical totem I can carry with me. I might create a moodboard from Pinterest images and cards with my goals and intentions for the year ahead. I’ll use fancy, thick paper and colorful markers to create something I’ll love to look at throughout the year. Other years, I’ll perform a simple letting-go ceremony, writing down the feelings and ideas that are no longer serving me and heading outside into the newly cooler air to burn them in my fire pit.
I’m not quite sure what this year’s ritual will look like. I know I want to head into this new year with more confidence and assurance of my passions and to let go of fear of the unknown. Regardless of what the end result looks like, I’m already excited for the mornings I’ll take to intentionally sit outside on my deck with a warm mug of coffee or tea around the Rosh Chodesh holiday, slowing down to observe the changes around me.
When I was a kid, I wanted a guarantee of what the world would look like for me in the days, weeks, months ahead. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that we’re in charge of what our lives look like, and that rituals can get us closer to understanding what we really want. We can bottle up this cosmic energy in Rosh Chodesh celebrations to give us inspiration, a nudge in the right direction.
At The Well uplifts many approaches to Jewish practice. Our community draws on ancient Jewish wisdom, sometimes adapting longstanding practices to more deeply support the well-being of women and nonbinary people. See this article’s sources below. We believe Torah (sacred teachings) are always unfolding to help answer the needs of the present moment.
Anna Beyerle Rosen is a facilitator and writer who encourages others to be their most creative selves. Follow along with her creative work at fairlyalarmed.substack.com and instagram.com/annabeyerle.
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